


hugs like a mother, secrets like a sister

by electroniccollectiondonut



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Family Fluff, Gen, Hugs, Secrets, thats it those are the main themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:21:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24437371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electroniccollectiondonut/pseuds/electroniccollectiondonut
Summary: Maedhros and Maglor were not the only Feanorians the Peredhel twins called family. A series of moments through the years between Elros and Elrond and Caranthir's wife Herenyanel.(My working title for this was "the twins get a murder auntie.")
Relationships: Elrond Peredhel & Caranthir's Wife, Elros Tar-Minyatur & Caranthir's Wife
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In my headcanon, Caranthir's wife is a Noldo named Herenyanel who was a singer/actress in Aman. She went to Beleriand with the Feanorians and survived the First Age. During the Second Age, she lived quietly as an herbalist in Ost-in-Edhil until it's fall. Eventually, she died fighting under a false name in the Last Alliance.
> 
> I have a more detailed story about her life [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20858735/chapters/49605929#workskin) if you're interested. Warning, though, it has a very graphic ending.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Herenyanel comforts the twins after a nightmare.

The fortress of Amon Ereb is imposing, casting a long shadow across the plains to the east as the sun sets behind the column of bedraggled warriors marching home. Bedraggled warriors, and two small, terrified princes.

Elrond and Elros cling to each other as they go through the gates, the  _ clop  _ of many horses’ feet on packed earth turning to the  _ clip  _ of horseshoes on cobblestone. The kinder of their captors, the one with the dark hair, calls them to him. The other, the red haired, looks skeptical, but Elrond and Elros dare not even think of disobeying as they’re led to a small courtyard near the center of the fortress.

There, organizing the returning soldiers with economical efficiency, is a woman in warrior’s clothes with dark hair falling unadorned just past her shoulders. The red haired elf calls out to her, and she turns, a sentence half spoken before she even fully meets his eyes. She glances down at Elrond and Elros, standing close together between their captors, and suddenly her face is very, very white. She shoves her clipboard at the red haired elf and leaves the courtyard, picking up speed as she goes.

They settle into Amon Ereb quickly and quietly, spending their days in the room they’ve been allotted, and spare little thought for the woman who fled at the sight of them except for when she argues with their captors where they can see. Sirion was a city of the Gondolindrim as much as the Sindar, and so Elrond and Elros can speak enough Quenya to put together that she’s upset that they look like Dior and that another set of twins died at the same battle where they were kidnapped.

For the first week of their captivity, they do not dream. Then, very abruptly, the fact that they are prisoners and their parents are gone snaps into focus and they spend most of a day sobbing. That night, they don’t feel like supper, and go to sleep early.

Elrond wakes in the dark of midnight to the terror of Elros’ nightmare shoved into his mind and the sound of someone fumbling at the lock of their door, barely audible over Elros’ strangled screaming next to him. There is nothing in the room to be used as a weapon, and Elrond is small and untrained even if there was, but he gets up and stands between the bed and the door anyway.

When the door finally opens, the one to enter is the woman, disheveled in only her nightgown. She crosses the room quickly, but is somewhat dissuaded when Elrond continues to step between her and the now quiet Elros. Instead, she goes to the nightstand and lights the lamp. Then she kneels down on the floor by the stand and speaks softly, in very thickly accented Sindarin.

“You dreamt, didn’t you?”

Elros crawls closer and Elrond gets back on the bed, still wary, but feeling the nightmare and the exhaustion of sleep interrupted more keenly now that she doesn’t seem hostile. Elros nods.

The woman tilts her head to look up at them, expression sad. “That happens when bad things happen to you. You’ll dream of it less after a while.”

“You don’t like us,” Elrond says, as sharply as he can manage.

She glances down. “You… I don’t like your grandfather.”

“Why?” Elros asks, drawing her eyes back to them.

She sighs, and is quiet for a long moment. “Dior killed my husband,” she says at last. “I love him very much, and I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again.”

“Oh,” Elros murmurs, shifting closer to Elrond.

“But I’m not angry with you about that. It had nothing to do with you.” There’s another moment of quiet, then she says, “Are you ready to go back to sleep?”

Elrond allows her onto the bed, and they both settle against her as she begins to sing a lullaby in Quenya. She’s a good singer, which is surprising since they’ve only ever heard her shouting before tonight. The end of her song is interspersed with yawns of her own, but the twins are already asleep, and so don’t hear it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The twins convince Herenyanel to let them go swimming.

It’s late summer, just barely beginning to bleed into autumn, and the twins have lived in Amon Ereb for a little over a year. Maedhros has long since given up on the faint hope that their parents will ransom them for the Silmaril, and Maglor has thrown himself fully into raising them. Herenyanel is less involved, but she sewed quilts for their bed this past winter and when she isn’t leading patrols through the lands surrounding the fortress, she will sometimes play with them.

Today, the boys are acting strange. They speed through their lessons with Maglor and then vanish to their room. Herenyanel worries that Maglor doesn’t notice. But her brothers-in-law have begun to fall apart since Sirion, their Oath continuing to pull at them even though it cannot be fulfilled now. Herenyanel is selfishly glad that she was not there when they took the Oath, for she doesn’t think she would have had the courage to turn away like Curufin’s wife had.

Maedhros and Maglor are not fully here on the worst of days, and so it’s Herenyanel who goes looking for the twins this time. She knocks on their door and the sound of quick words and rustling fabric stops instantly.

“Who is it?” Elrond calls after a moment, audibly guilty.

“Herenyanel,” she answers.

There’s another hesitation, and then they open the door to allow her inside. She sees very little that could make them sound so guilty. They’ve traded their house slippers for the boots they wear on excursions outside the fortress and they’ve obviously been digging through the chest of clothes at the foot of their bed, but neither of those things are particularly concerning.

“Should I be worried?” she asks, eyebrows raised.

“Um…” Elros begins. “No?”

“What are you doing?” she asks instead, trying for curiosity instead of suspicion.

“Swimming,” Elrond says matter-of-factly.

“Alone?” Herenyanel asks, incredulous. “You’re seven.”

“Sirion was by the water,” Elrond says. His tone holds no accusation, but she knows that anyone who was there at Sirion would flinch. She wasn’t there, and very little has been able to make Herenyanel flinch since Doriath besides.

“Would your mother let you get in the water without anyone watching?”

Elros glances at Elrond, then says, very quickly, “Yes.”

Herenyanel is unconvinced. “Did you ask Maedhros or Maglor?”

“Maglor said no,” Elros admits, twisting his towel guiltily. “Are you going to tell him?”

She thinks Maglor probably wouldn’t even notice today, and Elrond probably knows it. It’s unkind to use the Oath’s pull against him for things so small as swimming.

“What if we make a deal,” she offers anyway. “I’ll come swimming to keep an eye on you, and we won’t tell Maglor that I let you go.”

“I guess you can come,” Elrond allows, grudgingly, and Herenyanel smiles.


End file.
